


Winterfell Manor

by elroymarvelous



Category: British Actor RPF, Jane Eyre - Charlotte Brontë
Genre: F/M, I'm Going to Hell, but you're reading this so you're going with me, damn he a sexy Mr. Rochester, jane eyre au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-07
Updated: 2016-09-28
Packaged: 2018-06-06 20:48:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 14,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6769363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elroymarvelous/pseuds/elroymarvelous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Y/N L/N is entering a new chapter in her life. Having grown up poor, she was lucky to have to have the chance to go to the rather underfunded Huntswood School for Girls. Now, she’s been hired as a governess by a Mrs. Foster of Winterfell Manor. Things are finally looking up for Y/N as she enters her new home. What she finds there, no one could predict….</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I

You step out of the carriage, looking just as calm and collected as usual, but having quite the panic attack on the inside. Perhaps accepting this new situation was a terrible idea? You don’t know much about this Mrs. Foster, and you have no one to go home to is this all goes awry.  
No, it’ll be alright. Anything is better than where you were….  
You take a moment to steady yourself. You take a deep breath, and smooth out your frock. Grabbing your bag, you start on your way to Winterfell Manor.  
With the half hour, the large house rose before you. It’s four times the size of the cottages you’d passed on the ride in. It looks to be about three stories tall, with old, elegant towers on either end. There are plenty of windows, but the interior seems dark and uninhabited from the outside. You can see a garden peeking out from behind the dark stone. Making a mental note to visit said garden, you continue your advance down the lane.  
The front door is rather intimidating. Tall, painted black with some fearsome creature’s likeness on the knocker. You again take a deep breath to steady yourself. You knock, your hand only shaking slightly. The door swings open inwardly, revealing a small grey-haired woman. She’s the absolute picture of domesticity. Worn apron, well kept bun, small spectacles on the end of her nose.  
“Hello. Are you Mrs. Foster? I’m Y/N L/N. The new governess.”  
“Ah yes! Hello dear. I was wondering when you’d arrive. Those carriages are shifty. Early, late, but never on time. I’m glad, I should say, that you have come before nightfall. Come in, come in.”  
She ushers you into the spacious entryway, bustling about the whole time.  
“We’ll get you settled this evening. I’ll introduce you to Anastasia in the morning.”  
“Is she your daughter?”  
“Oh goodness no! My children have long since grown and left me. Little Miss. Anastasia is Mr. Hiddleston’s daughter.”  
“Mr. Hiddleston?”  
“The master of Winterfell.”  
“I was under the assumption you were the mistress.”  
“Oh no. I am just his distant relation by marriage. He leaves me in charge of the estate and Anastasia. I doubt you’ll see him. He rarely spends more than a fortnight here.”  
“Is he in at present?”  
“He is in London on business. Here we are!”  
You have followed her up an ornate flight of stairs to a simple wooden door. She opens the door, revealing a barren, simple room. Small bed in the corner, dresser drawer against the wall, and a small closet. You set down your bag and walk to the small window. It overlooks the garden you saw hiding before. You see now that the garden is sizeable and dotted with an array of flora, all of which, come spring, should brighten even the rainiest of days.  
“I’ll leave you to your rest now, Miss. Y/N. I shall fetch you in the morning to become acquainted with Winterfell.”  
“Good night Mrs. Foster.”  
“Good night dear.”  
She turns to leave but stops, as if remembering something.  
“Oh yes. This is an old house, Winterfell. Don’t be alarmed if you hear it….settle.”  
You only nod in response, somewhat confused.  
Is it common for houses to do such things? Best not to question it. Don’t throw away this situation for some suspicion.  
With that, you retire to bed.


	2. II

You rise early the next morning, a mix of nerves and excitement stirring in you. You dress and unpack your few possessions in a vain attempt at making the room look more inviting and lived-in. Mrs. Foster arrives at your door at the same time the sun arrives over the hill.   
“Miss L/N, it is time to get acquainted with everyone.”  
You smooth your skirt and exit the room, following the old matron down the corridor, and back down the stairs.   
“I’ll introduce you and Anastasia first, then I let you two alone for a while before you see the rest of the house.”  
“Very well.”  
You follow her into a very large library, and fall in love right away with the room. You had never seen so many books previously. You decide right then to spend as much time as possible in this room. The two of you wind in between stacks until you reach a little study table at the center.   
“This is where you’re to hold lessons with Ana. Wait here a moment while I fetch her.”  
Mrs Foster bustles away, and you’re left to wonder at all the knowledge surrounding you. You pace around the table, and admire what volumes you can see from here. Medical books, novels, a lot of the books seem to be in French. A few more steps reveals to you and entire section devoted entirely to Shakespeare. This Mr. Hiddleston has excellent taste in literature. Before you can investigate further, a small child rushes in. She is a little girl of about 9 or 10 years of age. The dress she wears is covered with bright flowers and it bounces along with her blonde curls. She gives off the eir of ‘bouncy’ and you immediately take a liking to the little thing. You lean down, so as to look her in the eye.   
“Hello, you must be Miss Anastasia. I’m Miss Y/N L/N”  
“Bonjour mademoiselle L/N!”   
“Je comprends que vous êtes français. Dois-je vous parler en français ou en anglais?”  
“In English, please mademoiselle. Father says I must practice.”  
“Very well then. Shall we begin today’s lesson?”  
“Yes please!”  
The little girl climbs up into the large chair, and looks very focussed. You chuckle.   
I think I’m going to like this new situation.   
****  
“Well Miss Anastasia, you’ve done very well today. Our lesson is over, and you may go play.”  
“Merci mademoiselle!”  
Off the little thing goes again, curls bouncing. Mrs Foster returns as you are tidying up the lesson materials.   
“Are you ready to see the rest of the house, Miss L/N?”  
“Yes, thank you Mrs Foster.”  
“Follow me please.”  
She leads you out of the library and down the large downstairs corridor. You visit the kitchen, which is warm and seems most inhabited. You meet the other people of the house. John, the carriage driver, his wife, Mary, and James the butler. They all seem somewhat in their own worlds, which will do just fine with you. You visit the dining room, parlour, and study. All of them are spotless, and nicely furnished, but feel cold and empty. You inquire to Mrs Foster about them.  
“Mr. Hiddleston comes home at the most unexpected times, and likes everything to be in the right state of things when he does return.”  
“I see, but does anyone use these rooms?”  
“He uses the study when he is here, but he rarely has company, and we all take our meals in the kitchen, even Anastasia.”  
“I see.”  
After that she takes you upstairs and tells you whose bedrooms are whose. The majority of them are empty, meant for the company Mr. Hiddleston never seems to have. At the end of the main corridor you see a set of stairs, leading up.   
“What’s up there?”  
“Oh, only the third floor, you won’t need to go up there.”  
“What’s on the third floor?”  
“The gallery, and not much else.”  
“Could I have a look?”  
She seems to deliberate a moment, before sighing.  
“I suppose.”  
It’s even colder up there, and the windows only overlook the woods behind the house. These woods aren’t lush, or like a fairytale, they’re dark, and connote danger. You shiver and resolve to return back downstairs. As you descend the stairs you hear a laugh. It’s cold, and sends a sick feeling to your stomach.   
“What was that?”  
Mrs Foster is unfazed.   
“Oh that was just Emma Pond, she sews with Mary sometimes.”  
You have no reason to disbelieve that statement, but….it doesn’t sit right with you.   
You don’t plan on returning up there any time soon.


	3. III

Three months later finds you in the town nearest to Winterfell. Anastasia needs new hair ribbons and you’ve been itching for an excuse to leave the big empty house. You find the shop easily and buy a selection of ribbons for you little pupil. If you’re honest, you’ve grown quite fond of the little French child. She’s wormed her way into a place in your heart. You pick out pink, green, blue, red, and orange ribbons for her. Things take a turn as you pass the local pub.  
“Oi! Who’s this? A little quaker I see. Give an old chap a kiss would you, love?”  
A rather drunk man pushes himself toward you, from the door of the pub. You ignore him, walking faster and clutching the box of ribbons tighter to your chest.  
“Oh come now, pet, don’t play games with me!”  
He yanks your arm and makes you look at him. His sour breath fans over your face, making you cringe.  
“Sir, I don’t believe you’d know a game if it slapped you.”  
He gets angry then. He throws you to the ground with more strength than you’d anticipated. You scramble to your knees, scared of another blow, but none arrive. Instead, your attacker is thrown to the ground himself by another man. The second man pulls the drunkard up by the collar and punches him.  
“That’s not how you treat a lady, mate.”  
Your attacker just whimpers, seeming to shrink infinitely. The second man lets him go, glaring as the drunk idiot stumbles away. The second man helps you to your feet. He is tall and strong looking, with light, gently curling hair. He wears a nice suit, and you assume he is well-off. He has kind eyes of brilliant blue, and the face of someone who has experienced more than most their age. You’d place him in his mid-thirties. You notice the drunk man had slashed his cheek. The man come forward and rests a gentle hand on your shoulder.  
“Are you alright Miss?”  
“Yes, thank you. Are you?”  
He seems to find this funny.  
“Yes, I am. Do you need me to take you home? Where are you going?”  
“I’m currently living at Winterfell Manor. I can manage on my own, however.”  
“I see. Who is the master there?”  
“Mr. Hiddleston.”  
“Is he there?”  
“Not at present, but I’d best be getting back, they will be wondering where I am.”  
“Yes, yes, of course. You’re sure you do not want assistance?”  
“I’ll be fine. Good day, sir.”  
“Good day.”  
He lifts his hand from shoulder and you hurry away, holding tight to the now dirty box of ribbons in your hand.  
****  
A very worried Mrs Foster greets you at the door.  
“Miss L/N! Where were you?”  
“I’m very sorry Mrs Foster, I was attacked in town by a drunk man, and-”  
“Are you alright dear?”  
“Yes, a stranger helped me. The box is a bit crushed, but I did get the ribbons for Anastasia.”  
“Nevermind that now, there’s more important news!”  
“There is?”  
“Mr. Hiddleston has come home! He’ll want to see you tomorrow I expect. Right now the doctor is with him.”  
“Is he alright?”  
“His cheek was cut somehow in town on his way here. The doctor is just seeing to it quickly.”


	4. IV

Mr. Hiddleston was occupied for the rest of the evening and all day the next day with the doctor first, and then what Mrs. Foster calls “matters of business.” These matters were all inside his study and the library, with all kinds of people coming and going. As the library’s in use, you and Anastasia have class out on the lawn. The day is sunny, and with the birds all harmonising, the house seems significantly less intimidating.   
“Miss Anastasia, I have a question for you. It’s about Mr. Hiddleston.”  
“Oui, mademoiselle?”  
“Nous en avons parlé, Anastasia. Pratique en anglais.”  
“Sorry, Miss L/N.”  
“That’s alright Ana, just try to remember. Anyway, does he always arrive so suddenly?”  
“Yes. Did Mrs. Foster not tell you?”  
“She did, but….does he not say hello to you? You’re his daughter.”  
“My Papa is very busy…”  
“I see…”  
He’d seemed quite compassionate back in the village. But then again, there doesn’t seem to be a Mrs. Hiddleston. Perhaps he was not ready to be father to Anastasia.  
“Where is your mother, Ana?”  
“She went to Dieu when I was six.”  
“I see. I’m very sorry.” You think for a moment before letting out a soft laugh.   
“Pourquoi ris-tu?”  
“It’s interesting that in all the weeks I’ve been here, I never thought to ask you about your mother. Perhaps I felt that I had filled the role and the question needn’t be addressed…”  
The little girl only hums, clearly not longer interesting in conversing.   
Lessons done, supper had, and sun set, you returned to your room, and began preparing for sleep. You were about to take off your frock when a knock sounds at the door.   
“Miss L/N? Mr. Hiddleston wishes to see you.”  
“At this hour?”  
“He insisted.”  
You open the door to argue, but Mrs. Foster bustles in past you. She takes in your appearance, and starts ruffling through your things.   
“Do you only wear plain frocks? Have you nothing fancy? A brooch? Necklace?”  
“Only what I was given at Huntswood.”  
“I suppose this will have to do…”  
She pulls out your best frock, of a dark purple, made of slightly nicer and more expensive material than your others. It had been a going away present from a close friend, and fellow teacher, Miss Violet.   
“Change quickly now while I fetch Anastasia. He wishes to see you in the study.”  
****  
The study is warm and invitingly lit tonight. Quite the opposite of what it looked like when you first took the tour, it now houses a crackling fire, and a slight mess. You see a head peeking over the top of an overstuffed armchair, facing parallel to the fire and away from the doorway.   
“Mr. Hiddleston? I have fetched Miss L/N and Miss Anastasia.”   
“Thank you Mrs Foster, you are dismissed for the evening.”  
The older woman nods, and leaves the room, smiling softly.   
“Ana, come say hello to your father.”  
You see the little girl’s eyes light up as a grin spreads across her face. She runs around to the front of the chair and jumps into his lap.   
“Papa!”  
“Hello sweetheart.”  
You slowly take the same path, unsure of what to do. Once you’ve come round, and are now facing the chair, you can’t help but smile. He is in fact your strange savior from the town. He has the same kind, yet tired eyes, sandy curls. Maybe they’re ginger? The light is deceiving. A slender bandage is covering the slash to his cheek. And he is carefully peppering kisses on his daughter’s face. She settles on his lap, tucked under his arm, leaning her tired head on his shoulder. It is likely she’ll fall asleep right there.   
“Please, take a seat Miss L/N.”  
You do as he says and perch on the chair across from his. Anastasia speaks sleepily from her place at his side.   
“Papa me avez-vous un cadeau apporter?”  
“Did you expect a present, darling?”  
She nods slowly. He grins and bumps his nose with hers.  
“Later, Ana. I must be sure you deserve it first. Miss. L/N, I must say I’m impressed. Upon examination I see you have much improved my little Ana.”  
“Thank you sir.”  
“You’ve lived here for three months?”  
“Yes sir.”  
“You are from…?”  
“Huntswood School for Poor Girls.”  
“How long were you there?”  
“Eight years.”  
“Eight! As a student?”  
“Six as a student, two as a teacher, sir.”  
“Why did you leave?”  
“I was restless. I wished to see more of the world.”  
“That would explain it then. When I met you yesterday, you had a look of a deer, or some other innocent creature, thrust into the world all at once. Whether or not it’s a trick I’ve yet to determine. Who are your parents?”  
“I never knew them.”  
“Have you any kinsfolk?”  
“The closest I ever knew was a teacher at Huntswood.”  
“Have you read much?”  
“I suppose so, sir. When I had a moment to myself I would.”  
“What books?”  
“I especially enjoy the works of William Shakespeare.”  
He seems intrigued by that. He gently maneuvers his daughter so that he might lean more toward you.   
“I talk of you:  
Why did you wish me milder? would you have me  
False to my nature? Rather say I play  
The man I am.”   
You smile at the Coriolanus quote.   
“If I be waspish, best beware my sting.”  
He chuckles at that one.   
“I suppose that one is your favorite? You strike me as the kind to enjoy Taming of the Shrew.”  
“How so?”  
“You, Miss L/N, are strong and though you have said very little this evening, have revealed much to me. And yet…”  
He pauses, lost in some meditation.   
“Revealed nothing at all. I wish to know more, but now is not the time.”  
He turns and gently rouses Anastasia.   
“It is time for bed, Ana. I will fetch you tomorrow, yes?”  
“Yes please, Papa.”  
He nods, and kisses her forehead. You rise and take her hand. Leading her out of the study, you can feel Mr. Hiddleston’s eyes on your back. A shiver flows through your body, and you feel a strange sensation pass from your chest outwardly. You find yourself looking forward to the next time he calls upon you.


	5. V

A few days later, while you and Anastasia are playing out on the lawn by the garden, you see him taking a walk. He simply stands and watches you and the little girl for a while. You keep your attention on Ana, but remain fully aware of his eyes. She soon notices her father, and rushes to him.   
“Papa!”  
“Hello, princess. How are you?”  
“I’m magnifique, Papa.”  
“And what were you and Miss L/N doing?”  
“She was teaching me about the butterflies, and then we were playing a game.”  
“What sort of game?”  
“We were making shapes out of clouds!”  
“How on earth can you do that? All this time, my daughter could touch clouds and I had no idea. What a blind fool I have been.”  
The little child giggles, touching Mr. Hiddleston’s nose.  
“No, Papa! We were imagining. Look! That one looks like a dog!”  
“So it does. Now tell me,”  
He drops his voice to a low whisper that still manages to reach your ears.  
“Is Miss L/N good at this game?”  
“Yes Papa. Mademoiselle thinks of the best animals! She made a dragon!”  
“A dragon? How frightening!”  
“No Papa, it was a cloud.”  
“So it would seem. Now go play, I wish to have a word with Miss L/N.”  
Anastasia wriggles from his grasp, and takes off down the small hill. She makes no inclination of stopping, so you call after the bouncing curls.   
“Miss Anastasia! Do not tread past the garden please!”  
“Yes Mademoiselle.”  
You turn back toward Mr. Hiddleston, unsure of his intentions.  
“Will you walk with me, Y/N?”  
“Yes sir.”  
You fall into step with the taller man down the little lane in the direction Ana took.   
“You have exceeded my expectations.”  
“How so, sir?”  
“You are not only an excellent governess, but you have proven to be a wonderful companion to Ana. She is clearly very attached to you. Furthermore, you have shown me that you are of great intelligence. Mrs. Foster chose an exceptional governess.”  
You are lost for words for a moment.  
“Thank you, sir.”  
“You are blushing Miss L/N. And now seem to find the pattern of the grass quite intriguing. Why do you look so?”  
You can hear the smile in his voice.   
“You have given me a great compliment, sir. I-many governesses would be in contest for such a position as I have here. Not to mention how happy I am in this situation. Now sir, you have just made it all the better by your kind words.”  
You look over to him after a few seconds of silence. He is studying you, a soft smile playing on his lips. You can’t help but smile back.  
****  
“Miss L/N, can you spare a moment? I wish to hear your thoughts on something.”  
“Certainly sir.”  
“What are your meditations on this quote from The Merchant of Venice, ‘But love is blind, and lovers cannot see?’”  
“I like the candor found in it sir. And it, upon deeper thought has two sides, like a coin.”  
“Oh?”  
“One may say that Shakespeare refers to romantic lovers. I believe, sir, that he also speaks of family. If I had one, I’d be as blind in caring for them as I would a lover.”  
“Insightful. I, however, disagree with him. Lovers cannot see because love is blind, but together, they may lead one another. Together, they may be blind, but not lost.”  
“That is a beautiful conclusion sir.”  
“As was yours. Many in this life disregard the love that a family shares in favor of that between lovers. Be glad, Y/N, that you see this light in the dark world. You, who have had no family, know this truth.”  
“Will that be all Mr. Hiddleston? Miss Anastasia’s lesson is to begin in a few moments.”  
“Yes, you may go prepare.”  
Touched and enlightened, you left his study. The warmth spread across your cheeks left you with much to consider.   
****  
“Une robe! C'est beau. Je vous remercie Papa!”  
“You’re welcome princess. You have been showing me great improvement lately, so I thought it was time for your gift.”  
You observe the sweet exchange between father and daughter from afar. You stand next to the fireplace, silent and trying to blend in. They sit together in the middle of the drawing room, Mr. Hiddleston seated, legs crossed. Anastasia dances around him with the air of an opera star, dress clutched in hand. Satisfied with her reaction, he leaves her to dance, turning his attention on you.   
“Y/N, you need not stand so far. Come, I have something for you.”  
You obey, approaching gingerly and kneeling across from him. He grins at you, blue eyes twinkling. He produces a book from the pocket of his jacket, and presents it to you.   
“I was in town and this caught my eye. I thought it would suit you, my intelligent governess.”  
The familiar warmth that seems to appear in his presence tickles your cheeks. You take it from him gently, flattered that he would do such a thing. Upon further inspection you discover that it is a journal. The leather cover has a rose etched into it. The design is beautiful and intricate.   
“Thank you sir, but I can’t accep-”  
“You will accept it. It is my gift to you.”  
“Sir, you are-”  
“Consider it as a gift from one friend to another, yes?”  
You nod, your face feeling unbearably warm now.   
“Thank you.”  
“You’re welcome, Y/N.”  
Ana dashes over to the two of you, new dress donned and smile bright.   
“Papa, will you dance with me?”  
“Nothing would make me happier.”  
You get up and return to your spot at the mantle. Mr. Hiddleston bows to the little girl, then extends his hand in a very gentlemanly way. You watch, heart warming as he and Anastasia dance about the room.


	6. Chapter 6

“Darling, would you come here a moment?”

You walk over to where Mr. Hiddleston is standing. Once you reach him, he wraps his arms around you, and holds you. You close your eyes, enjoying the quiet beauty of the garden in spring. The flowers blooming, birds singing, warmth of his affection near you. From your position, you can see Ana playing in the grass. She chases a butterfly, moving her arms in an imitation of its wings. Mr. Hiddleston presses a kiss to your hair, hand resting on your stomach. You cover his hand with your own, feeling the bump beginning to form there. You smile, happiness filling every crevice of your being. You turn your head to look at the man you hold so dear. He smiles down at you, hair looking especially ginger in the sun. He leans down as you stretch up, pressing your lips to his-

You wake with a jolt. Sitting straight up in your bed, you can feel the blush coloring your cheeks. 

_ What was that? Where on God’s good earth did that come from. Surely you don’t-no. There’s no way. You’re just….stressed. Muddled. That’s it.  _

You leave your bed, dressing a quick as you can. There’s no use in trying to go back to sleep now. Still feeling flustered, but now more put together, you descend to the library. 

****

The day’s lessons have ended. Ana is off playing somewhere. You’re alone. With your thoughts. Just what you’d hoped to avoid today. 

You pace up and down the length of the gallery. After the first week or so of living at Winterfell, you stopped being so afraid of the third floor. People rarely venture up there, so you began to use it as a sort of thinking space. 

What could that dream have meant? You and Mr. Hiddleston….of course not! He’s of much higher class than you, a governess. Such a thing never happens. Besides, why would a handsome, intelligent man love you? Not that you’re not smart, and decently pretty. You just have a tendency to blend. He probably has a wealth of rich, gorgeous, and important women. 

Oh. 

That thought sends a sour feeling through you. Why?

Oh no. 

You’re in love with him. You love him. 

This is a disaster. You can’t! It’ll only hurt you. 

“Y/N, I didn’t expect to find you here.”

Of course.

“I find this space calming, sir. It helps me think.”

“I see. What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing of importance, sir.”

“You are blushing Miss L/N.”

Your face gets impossibly hotter, and you try not to look at him. If this is how you will act around him, you’d best start avoiding him now. 

“If you’ll excuse me sir, I have to to check on Miss Anastasia.”

“She is in the nursery, I just spoke to her.”

You had begun to walk to the stairs, but now stop, only about a foot away from him. You can see a gentle, yet teasing smile on his face. 

“What were you thinking about Y/N? From your concentration, it must have been quite fascinating.”

“I was...well...I was,”

Say something, say something, say something!

“I was pondering the strangeness of love.”

“Oh?”

“How it can invade the conscious, and distract from what one wishes to be doing. It also seeps into the unconscious, with dreams, visions, and the like. I find it interesting that one emotion can be so…infectious.”

He shakes his head, laughing slightly. 

“You continue to surprise me Y/N.”

“I do?”

“One moment I think I know you, and you show me a whole new side of you.”

Your face warms again, heart swelling at his kind words. Maybe this whole love thing isn’t all bad. 


	7. VII

You head up the lane with an extra spring in your step. The restlessness you’d initially felt in coming to Winterfell dissipated with your realization about Mr. Hiddleston. You’re returning from a trip into town to post a letter to Miss Violet. You enter the large house, a big smile on your face. You’re met with the  sight of Mrs Foster, cleaning and transporting clothes and sheets around the room. 

“Mrs Foster, what’s happened? Is everything alright?”

“Company is coming! Mr. Hiddleston has gone-he just wrote-it’s never happened before-”

“Company? Mrs Foster, do slow down, please.”

“He went too go visit the Suttons. If we’re lucky, he’ll marry Miss Sutton. She’s very beautiful and one would say they’d be a perfect match.”

Your heart sunk to your shoes. You knew you couldn’t live with the delusion you could have him forever, but-

“H-how soon will they be arriving? May I assist you?”

“Oh dear, thank you. He’s bringing the Suttons, and the Bennets, and Colonel Twist and his wife. I wouldn’t be surprised if he proposed within the fortnight! Oh it is a wonderful day!”

“Yes….wonderful.”

You spend the rest of the afternoon and into the evening preparing all the previously unused rooms and giving the dining room and study extra dustings. Throughout it all, you hold back tears. Your eye feel full and ready to spill tears all day. Only Ana takes notice when you put her to bed. 

“Miss Y/N, your eyes are rather shiny.”

“I am tired, Miss Ana.”

“Is it about Papa and the pretty lady?”

You forgot how observant children can be.

“Wh-why would that be?”

“You love Papa.”

You smooth the girl’s curls. 

“Go to sleep Miss Anastasia. You will have a lot of distinguished ladies to entertain tomorrow.”

She giggles and you smile genuinely for the first time since returning. 

****

“They’re here! Papa and the others are here!”

You look over to where Ana is peering through the window, thrumming with excitement. You place a hand on her shoulder, looking out as well. You can only make out vague silhouettes. Mr. Hiddleston has a woman whom you assume is Miss. Sutton on his arm. You yearn to see her face, to see just how much more beautiful she is. Instead, you shake those thoughts away, taking Ana’s hand. 

“Come, we must get you dressed in case he summons you to the party.”

****

Mrs. Foster was flitting about all around you as you sew up some holes in one of Ana’s dresses.

“Oh I do hope he proposes.”

“Mmm”

“I has been so lonely for him.”

“Why? He has Ana.”

“She is but a child. Ever since Sarah…..died.”

“Sarah?”

“His sister. They lived here together after their father passed. She was to married…”

“What happened?”

“Best not to speak of the dead.”

You’re surprised at how fast she ended the conversation, but you content yourself with just sewing. Mr. Hiddleston has yet to call for Ana, and you smile at her peaceful face as she sleeps a few feet away. After a few quiet moments one of the maids comes to get Mrs. Foster. She leaves in the same restless frenzy she’s been in the whole day. She comes back with a message from Mr. Hiddleston. 

“He wanted you both in the parlour tonight, but I told him Miss Anastasia was asleep. He said you’re both to come and sit with the guests tomorrow night.”

“Both of us?”

“Yes, he said you were to accompany her.”

“I’ve nothing to wear!”

“I’ll find you something, don’t you worry.”

You sigh. 

“Very well.”


	8. Chapter 8

You sit with Ana in her chambers, still dressed as a servant, but with a slightly nicer, more fancy dress. Mrs. Foster has done your hair as well, pinning the braids slightly more elaborately. Anastasia is wearing the dress her father had given her all those months ago. It has become quite her favorite dress. You’re trying to get her to sit still by reading to her, but she continues to skip around the room, full of energy. Thankfully, Mrs Foster comes to your rescue. 

“Supper is ending and Mr Hiddleston expects you both to be in the parlour before the ladies arrive.”

The parlour is warm, and though no one else is there yet, seems to have more life than when you’d first been in it on your second day at Winterfell. You tuck yourself in an out of the way chair in the corner of the room, where you can observe and be silent. Waiting for the guests to arrive, you open your book and try not to theorize about Miss Sutton. 

The ladies arrive first, in a bustle of jewels and large skirts. Anastasia is immediately bouncing over to them, dropping into and exaggerated, and very cute curtsy. The three older women, you assume are Mrs Bennet, Mrs Twist, and Mrs Sutton. The younger three must be the two Miss Bennets and Miss Sutton. You have yet to figure out who exactly is who, but you suspect that the fair skinned, petite one in the light pink gown is Miss Sutton. She is very beautiful, but perhaps not the kind you’d been picturing. She’s physically very pretty, with long dark hair, pinned up in an elaborate and seemingly uncomfortable arrangement, and he face is not unlike she stepped out of a painting. However, you see no intelligence in her eyes. She seems complacent, and lacking in ambition. 

“Oh what a precious child!”

“I’m Miss Hiddleston.”

“Charmed, I’m sure.”

Ana has stuck her hand out to shake, after what is probably her seventh curtsy. Miss Sutton doesn’t look at her, curtsy back, or shake her hand. A distaste for the woman begins to grow at the dismissal of the girl who clearly only wishes to befriend her. 

“Caroline, look at the creature lurking in the corner.”

“That’s my governess, Miss L/N!”

“I never like any of your governesses, Lydia dear.”

“Neither did I, mother. I do recall having somewhere around five different ones!”

The ladies laugh at Miss Lydia Sutton’s point. You try to shrink back into your corner even more. Just then, the door opens again, and the gentlemen join the group. You make brief eye-contact with Mr. Hiddleston, before he’s over at Miss Sutton’s side. Your heart drops slightly, and you stare down once again at your book, trying to stop the fluttering in your heart. 

“What seems to be so amusing, sister?”

Lydia Sutton’s brother, Mr Bennett, Colonel Twist and of course your own employer sit down on the various chairs and couches. 

“I was merely recalling the uselessness of all the governesses mother set upon me.”

“You make it sound as though I picked the awful ones intentionally! I only wanted the best for my little princess.”

“That is something we can agree on Mrs Sutton.”

The party laughs at Mr Hiddleston’s comment. As if on cue, Ana crawls onto his lap, him tucking her under his arm like usual. You notice Miss Sutton sneer at the gesture, but he is unaware, whispering something to his daughter. 

“I had very much hoped that we should play charades tonight.”

There is a chorus of agreement with Mrs. Twist’s proposal. Miss Sutton leans toward Ana.

“It’s not a children’s game dear. Why don’t you go sit with your governess.”

“You mean Miss L/N.”

“Yes she does, now go sit with her please darling.”

“Yes Papa.”

She seems slightly downtrodden at being sent away, so you let her sit on your lap and read your book. The game of charades doesn’t last too terribly long, as Mrs. Bennett claims to be prone to headaches after too much activity. So everyone sits down once more after a ball was re-enacted. The scene, done to perfection, was complete with the gentlemen and ladies frozen in dancing poses. Mr. Hiddleston and Miss Sutton paired together. Mrs. Sutton suggested that Lydia should sing a song. 

You decide that during this between activities time would make a good opening for your exit. Taking a very sleepy Anastasia’s hand, you slip out. She goes on up to bed ahead of you, and just before you ascend the stairs, a familiar voice is heard behind you. You turn on the bottom step.

“Y/N, wait a moment.”

“Sir?”

“Thank you for coming tonight.”

He stops just before you. The little height you gained from the stair, leaves you almost at eye-level.

“Of course, sir.”

“Are you alright?”

“Of course, sir.”

You’re not, in fact alright. Tears are pricking your eyes and there’s not much holding them back. 

“Don’t lie to me. There are tears in your eyes.”

His voice is gentle. A tear escapes the thin wall of reserve you had.

“Why are you crying, Miss L/N. has something happened?”

I am in love with you and you’d be stupid not to marry Miss Sutton.

“I am only tired Mr. Hiddleston. Sleep hasn’t…..been easy the last few days. I’ll be fine, sir.”

He brings a hand to your cheek, brushing away the tear. 

“Are you sure exhaustion is all that it is?”

It must be your imagination that his face is getting closer, right? You struggle to find your voice. 

“Y-yes, sir.”

Your knees grow weak, and you teeter on the step a bit. A hand settles on your hip as one of yours lands on his chest. You find stability, turning redder with every passing second. His nose is so close to bumping your own. 

“I’ve got you.”

“I really should-”

“I don’t like it when you leave.”

“Sir, I don’t-”

His bright blue eyes are boring into your E/C ones and you feel as though his gaze is freezing you. You don’t want to move, but you know you should. Yet part of you wishes to never leave the step. 

The sound of the parlour door opening breaks the trance. You jump back a bit, withdrawing your hand from his chest. His hands are slower to leave your hip and cheek, but he steps away, turning to address whomever is leaving the room. 

“Thomas?”

“Ah, Mrs Sutton.”

“We were wondering where you’d gone off to. Wouldn’t you like to sing a duet with Lydia?”

“Of course. Just a moment, I wish to have one last word with Anastasia’s governess.”

The older woman nods, giving you a disdainful look before returning to the party. Mr. Hiddleston turns back to you. His eyes are soft and full of an emotion you’re scared to interpret. 

“I’ll let you get to bed. Sleep should keep you from tears I hope.”

You nod, trying to conceal your still turbulent emotions. He tucks a piece of loose hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering on your face. 

“I hate to see you cry.”

With that, he turns and walks back down the corridor. He offers you a brief smile before disappearing into the light and laughter once more.


	9. Chapter 9

A night or so after the party you sat in on, you can’t sleep. You’d been asleep for a while, but the creaking noises of the house “settling” woke you. Finally you begin to doze again. Dreams begin to creep into your mind as a voice startles you. Fully awake again, you hear nothing. 

Just a moment ago, you would’ve sworn there was someone whispering. You sit there, waiting to hear it again. 

There. 

Right outside your door. You can’t understand any one word, but someone is definitely mumbling. Unsure if you should see who it is, you stay put, hoping they’ll go away. 

After a few minutes, a second pair of footsteps is heard. The mumbling stops and you hear what sounds like Mr. Hiddleston. 

Hushed voices, one raspy and the other firm.

“You cannot be out here.”

More whispers.

“Ana saw you once and nearly fainted. Please, Sar-”

Louder but still incoherent whispers.

A loud noise, as though someone hit the wall. 

“You’ll wake her. Go back with me  _ now. _ ”

The whispers stop and two sets of footsteps are heard moving down the hall. You lay there for a long while, trying to drift back to sleep. You lay there and lay there.

You remain steadfastly awake. 

Not knowing what else to do, you get up, put a robe over your nightgown and go for an early morning walk. 

The halls of Winterfell are silent, causing the quiet tap tap tap of your shoes seem much louder. You decide to venture out to the garden. Despite the morning chill, it’s still your favorite place to think. You take a seat on a bench, framed elegantly by roses. You begin to think about the strange goings on you heard not over an hour before.

Who was the other person?

Why was Mr. Hiddleston so insistent that they return to wherever they came from?

You hold back a shudder of fear, reminded of something Ana had said at one of your first lessons. 

_ “There’s a woman in the house.” _

_ “Oh?” _

_ “She has very light hair, like mine.” _

_ Anastasia tugs at a blonde curl. _

_ “It’s tangled and dirty. She wears a white dress that’s all torn up. She can walk through walls, and she comes out at night. They say she comes to suck your blood!” _

_ “Who says these things? Miss Anastasia I do believe you read too many fairy tales.” _

_ “No, Miss L/N, Je l'ai vue.” _

_ “Have you?” _

_ “Oui, I was very small. It was just after Papa brought me here. She was standing in the door of my room. And then she disappeared.” _

_ “I see. Well, how about we see if Mrs. Foster has supper ready?” _

It is at moments like this one, when you have heard strange things and the sun is barely coming up that you believe such stories. 

Nosense. Just a child’s imagination at play. 

“Y/N, I didn’t expect to see you here so early.”

You rise to your feet, surprised by the voice.

“Mr. Hiddleston! I...I couldn’t sleep.”

“That seems to be going around Winterfell tonight.”

You don’t say anything, just stand there trying not to look at him. 

“Y/N, will you have a flower?”

He plucks a rose from next to your head. You take it, holding it in two somewhat shaky hands.

“Thank you sir.”

“It’s a lovely sunrise today. Do you like it?”

Grateful for something else to look at, you admire the pink and orange clouds in the distance. 

“Very much.”

“You look very pale. Are you alright? Surely that robe is not enough to protect you from the cold.”

“I’m alright sir, the chill doesn’t bother me.”

“Do you think me a good man, Y/N?”

“You have given me no reason to think otherwise, sir.”

“Yet you know nothing about me.”

“That’s not true, Mr. Hiddleston. You are a loving father, kind employer, and lover of Shakespeare.”

“You do not know my past.”

“It’s not my place to-”

“Are we not friends, Y/N?”

“You have said, sir, that we are. But I am still-”

“Cast aside the fact that you are a governess for a moment. As my friend, do you not feel you should know my past. You should know if I am good.”

“Are you not, sir?”

“I try to be. There are moments where I fear that in trying to be good, I do the wrong thing entirely.”

“It cannot be all bad if you had the intention to do right.”

“I suppose. If I were a bad man, wouldn’t it be right to find my cure in a good wife?”

“I do not know, sir. I think the cure would not come from a wife. It would have to be you. Perhaps a wife may help, but-”

“I think I’ve found my cure in-”

He stops, as though re-evaluating what he wishes to say. 

“Y/N, my friend. You have surely noticed my affection for Miss Sutton.”

You feel a pang of hurt in your sternum. Your voice is quieter than before. 

“Y-yes.”

“Do you think she could make me a good man?”

Before you can answer, he has taken your hand in his. He searches your face, as if looking for your answer there. 

“Your hands are so cold. You’re still very pale. Are you angry with me for disturbing your thoughts here?”

“Angry? No, sir.”

“Will you talk with me again?”

“Of course, whenever you need me to.”

“Like the night before my wedding! I will surely be unable to sleep. Much like this night…..or rather, morning. Will you promise to sit with me and keep me company? To you I can talk about my love, for you know her.”

You find it difficult to speak over the lump in your throat.

“Yes, sir.”

“She’s a rare one.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Smart, kind, beautiful. Like she came out of a story.”

You’re barely holding back your tears. A sound is heard a few feet away. You make out voices coming closer the garden. You recognise them as Colonel Twist and Mr. Sutton.

Without another word, Mr. Hiddleston squeezes your hand and heads to the other two.

“Ah! Colonel, Mr. Sutton. You two are up early….”

You practically collapse onto the bench again, confused, tired and trying so hard not to cry. 


	10. Chapter 10

Clutching the letter tightly in your hands, barely staving off your panic, you approach him. Mr. Hiddleston is sitting with Miss Sutton at an ornately carved stone table on the courtyard beside the garden. They are clearly engaged in conversation, she laughs at something he says, pressing a hand to his shoulder. You try not to get angry. He has made it clear he loves her. Or...has he? It doesn’t matter, that’s not why you’re there. 

“Thomas, I believe that lurking creature wants to speak with you.”

“Miss L/N, yes.”

He stands up and comes over to you.

“What is it Y/N? Is everything alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I….I’ve just received a letter from my old school, Huntswood. A teacher there, Miss Violet-she’s taken very ill. I must go back to see her before she passes. I request leave of absence for a week or two.”

“Were you close?”

“She’s like a mother to me.”

“I’m hesitant to let you go. I-Anastasia will surely miss you. She may yet survive-”

“The letter was from the doctor. He is certain.”

“How long will you stay?”

“I’ll return as soon as I can.”

“Promise to stay only a week.”

“I cannot make such an oath.”

“Promise you will come back. You won’t take up permanent residence there once again?”

“Of course, sir! I will return once all is taken care of.”

“You’re not travelling alone? Who is to go with you?”

“I can manage on my own.”

“I should send John-”

“No, sir, I will be perfectly alright.”

He looks at you a moment, thinking. 

“When do you plan to leave?”

“Early tomorrow morning.”

“You must have some money, you cannot travel without a little money. I assume you don’t have much for I have not paid you your salary yet.”

He ushers you inside and into his study. He pulls out a fifty pound note and tries to hand it to you. 

“Here.”

He only owed you fifteen.

“I have no change, sir.”

“I don’t want change. Take it.”

You refuse anything more than your due. He seems upset at first, then smiles, taking the fifty pounds back, giving you a ten instead. 

“Now you owe me five, Mr Hiddleston.”

“You’ll have to come back for it.”

You smile.

“Very well, sir. While I am here I would like to discuss another matter of business.”

“Yes?”

“The other morning you as good as informed me that you are about to be married. In that case, Anastasia should go to school. I’m sure you see why.”

“To get her out of the way of my bride?”

There is laughter in his voice.

“But what will become of you Y/N?”

“I should seek a new situation.”

“How?”

“I would advertise again.”

“Promise me something?”

“Anything, sir that I think I can do.”

“Do not advertise. Entrust the adventure of finding a situation to me. I will find you one in time.”

“Of course. I only ask that Ana and I are gone from Winterfell before your bride arrives”

He laughs. 

Why? Such a thing is not at all funny to you. 

“So you leave early tomorrow then?”

“Yes.”

“Will you not come to the parlour after supper?”

“I must prepare for the journey.”

“Then you and I must say goodbye for a while.”

“Only for a while.”

“Farewell Y/N.”

“Farewell Mr. Hiddleston.”

He just stands there, blocking the door for a while. He says nothing, and neither do you. He opens his mouth as if to speak, but quickly shuts it. There is a strange expression in his eyes. Almost pained, but not so unpleasant. 

He nods, exiting the room without another word.


	11. Chapter 11

_ “Grace?” _

_ “Yes Y/N?” _

_ “Have you any parents?” _

_ “My mother died when I was small. My father couldn’t keep me so he sent me here. Do you?” _

_ “Once. I don’t remember much. They left me at an orphanage when I was very little. Miss Violet found me there.” _

_ “D’you know what I think?” _

_ “What?” _

_ “We can be each other’s family.” _

_ “What are you talking about?” _

_ “Our families are dead or gone away. Everyone has to have someone to love and be loved by. I’ll be your older sister of sorts and you can be my younger one.” _

_ Your eyes widened at the prospect of family. _

_ “Promise?” _

_ “Promise.” _

_ Grace reached out in the darkness of the room and took your hand. Just then Miss Violet had come in, telling you both to go to sleep, there’d be time to talk in the morning. _

_ She was wrong. _

The carriage going over a large bump startles you from the memory. You tear your gaze from the countryside going by out of the window, focussing back on your book. 

****

A day later you stand in front of familiar iron gates attached to a high stone wall. Rain is dripping down from the the clouds so lightly that it’s practically mist. The gate creaks as you open it. Walking through the front courtyard you look around at the grassy area to your left and ignore  the few crudely made grave markers to your right. 

You will not go look at the square one on the far side.

You will not go look at the square one on the far side.

You will not go look at the square one on the far side.

You walk inside the school, met by a crowd of girls. 

“Miss L/N! Miss L/N! We missed you!”

You greet as many of them as you can before Mrs Weber leads you upstairs. The two of you enter Miss Violet’s room with it’s meger furnishing, light purple walls and old bed. She’s asleep when you walk in. Katherine Violet is pale, looking incredibly small in the bed. Her hair is grayer than you remember, and there are more lines on her face. The room smells like sickness and the situation suddenly becomes all too familiar. 

_ Grace was sick. That’s all they told you, because that’s all that you really understood at your young age. You later learned that she was dying of consumption. They had her in Miss Violet’s bed so that she could be properly cared for.  _

_ You thought she would get better. You thought that your sister would play with you in no time at all.  _

_ You weren’t supposed to visit her. That day however, you had made a doll out of straw. Convinced that it would make her get better faster, you snuck into Grace’s room. She was very small in that bed by herself. She was white as a sheet, hardly breathing. Without a second thought you slid into the bed next to her. _

_ “Grace. Grace wake up.” _

_ “Y/N?” _

_ Her voice was raspy and barely audible.  _

_ “I made you a doll. When are you gonna come play chase with me?” _

_ “I’m not.” _

_ “Why? Do you wanna play something else?” _

_ “Y/N, I’m going to God very soon.” _

_ “What? No, you promised to stay here.” _

_ “I’m sick, Y/N/N.” _

_ “That’s why there’s a doctor. To make you better.” _

_ “I want you to know that I’m not sad. It’s better to die young then to live a life of hardship.” _

_ “But it won’t be hard. You have me.” _

_ “Y/N.” _

_ “Please don’t leave me Grace. You promised we’d be family.” _

_ You were crying then. The information wasn’t fully processed, but you understood that she wasn’t coming back.  _

_ “Here, don’t cry. Lie here. I’m with you now. And you have Miss Violet. You’ll find family. I know it.” _

_ “Promise?” _

_ “Promise.” _

_ She kissed away your tears, holding you tightly. You talked into the night, and it almost felt like nothing was wrong.  _

_ “Go to sleep now, Y/N.” _

_ “I love you Grace.” _

_ “I love you too Y/N. Sleep now.” _

_ You fell asleep almost immediately, hand gripping hers. _

_ You woke up to motion. Miss Violet was carrying you.  _

_ “Grace…?” _

_ You twisted in her arms, trying to see your sister. You saw her in the bed. Her eyes were open, but she didn’t blink or breath or move. There was no life in her eyes. _

_ Miss Violet held you to her as you cried and cried and cried. _

“Y/N.”

“Katherine, how do you feel?”

“I’m dying, darling, how do you think?”

“I’m glad to see you’ve still got your humor.”

“Where would I be without it? I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re the closest to family I have”

“This place….it holds memories.”

“All those could not stop me from saying goodbye.”

“Come give me a hug child, I have missed you.”

You smile, walking to and embracing her. She is frail, making you fear you may break her.

“Tell me now, what have you been doing since you left me?”

****

Katherine Violet died almost a month later. She was always a fighter, and held on as long as possible. You stayed with her nearly the whole time. The two of you spoke of the past, enjoying the present and how you could enjoy the future for her. You told her about Anastasia and Mrs Foster. The first time Mr Hiddleston was mentioned, she got a bit more color in her cheeks and a glint in her eye.

“You’re in love.”

“I-what? Why would you assume such a thing?”

She only nodded, lying back in bed with a smug smile.

In her sleep the night before, her heart gave out. 

You stand there, in the rain looking at the newly filled in grave. You cannot distinguish the tears on your face from the rain. You’ve lost your family, again. 

_ “You’ll find family. I know it.” _

Grace’s words strike a chord within your heart. You think about Ana, and Mrs Foster. You miss them terribly. Wishing suddenly to return home-

Home.

Winterfell has become your home. You wipe your tears, hurrying inside to gather your things. 

****

The carriage rattles over holes and bumps on the way home. You find your thoughts dwelling on seeing Ana, Mrs Foster, and….him again. You feel the weight of sadness that had dragged you down the past month flying away. You leave Huntswood behind, not looking back once. 

 


	12. Chapter 12

Upon arriving back at Winterfell, you’re immensely surprised to find it all as you left it. Nothing has changed apart from Ana being a little taller. No trace of a new bride anywhere. 

Perhaps Mr. Hiddleston is waiting for your return to give you a new situation and send Ana away. Yes, that must be it. Pulling Mrs Foster aside you ask her. 

“Is Mr. Hiddleston not to be married soon?”

She nods, answering confidently. 

“I should think so. He sent for his mother’s wedding dress in London, several other things too if I remember.”

You try to hide the disappointment in your voice.

“I see.”

Eager to get away, you opt to go to the garden. Over the past year you’ve discovered that you think best there. 

To your dismay, the last person you wish to see is already there. Mr. Hiddleston stands with his back to you, inspecting the flowers. As quietly as you can, you attempt to escape. 

If you stay on the grass, the gravel path won’t give you away. One slow step at a time you back away. Only a foot or so away from the gate, and your freedom, he speaks. 

“Y/N, come look at this butterfly. It’s quite an odd one.”

Silently cursing yourself and him, you move to stand beside him. 

“Look, this little fellow is rather peculiar. One wing has that yellow circle there, and the other has a more orange one.”

“So it would seem, sir.” 

You keep your answer level and without emotion. Wishing nothing more than to return to your room, you begin to back away again. 

He only speaks again when you’re just past the gate. 

“Winterfell is lovely in summer, don’t you think?”

“Yes.”

“It would be a shame, then, to spend a beautiful evening such as this inside its restricting walls. Especially when we have been apart for so long. Won’t you walk with me?”

One look at the hopeful expression on his face and you cannot bear to refuse. 

“Of course, Mr. Hiddleston.”

“Excellent.”

Together, you start down the long winding paths through the grounds. The evening light bathes the grass in a golden light, causing leaves to glow subtly. A light breeze makes the scene before you sway as if in a relaxed dance. 

“Y/N, you have become attached to Winterfell, yes?”

“It is what I would call home, sir.”

“So you would be reluctant to leave it, Anastasia, and even Mrs Foster?”

“Yes, sir….am I to leave this place?”

He looks at you with a frown, but you could swear there’s humor in his eyes. 

“It would seem that way.”

“So you are to be married?”

“Yes, and as you yourself said, Ana must go to school and you off to another position before my bride arrives.”

You’re using all of your power to keep the tears away. 

“I see.”

He stops walking at the large oak tree at the farther end of the grounds. You stand with him under the strong branches.

“I have found you a suitable position as you asked. It is under the employment of a Mrs. Jane Brontё in Ireland. You’ll like Ireland, I think.”

Your vision is becoming steadily blurred, the tears welling up in your eyes. 

“We have become good friends, haven’t we Y/N?”

Your voice is impossibly small now, sadness unmistakeable. 

“Yes.”

“I should hate to see you go. You see, I feel as though there is a string tied round my heart, connected to a similar one tied round yours.”

His eyes are soft, and full of what you’re scared to interpret as love. As he speaks, he brings a hand to your face, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. His fingertips linger on your cheek. 

“I fear, Y/N, that if you go away, that tether will snap and my heart shall cease its beating. All while….you forget me.”

“I would not forget you. I-”

The tears erupt now, streaming down your face, falling onto his hand, and down onto your dress. 

“I love Winterfell, and I hate to leave it. I have known Anastasia and grown to love the child almost as a mother would. I have known you, Mr. Hiddleston, and it fills me with grief to know that I have to leave you forever.”

“Why do you have to?”

He has brought a second hand to your face. Brushing away tears as fast as they fall. His words confuse you greatly and you pull away. 

“You have told me why! Your bride, Miss Sutton is why I must leave you.”

“I have no bride! Especially not Lydia Sutton. I have no intention of marrying that woman.”

“But you said you’re to be married!”

The sadness you were feeling is not so slowly giving way to anger and confusion. 

“I, well, yes. I hope-”

“Then I must leave!”

“No! You must stay. With me.”

“Do you think I am some sort of machine? At your beck and call? Do you think because I am not rich a beautiful that I am also without emotion?”

You don’t give him a chance to interject, anger rouses a sort of power inside you. 

“If I were not who I am I would have made it just as hard for you to leave me as it is for me to leave you now. We don’t speak of matters of money or class, we speak of matter of friendship….of love. There you should not toy with me. There we are equals.”

His face breaks into a large smile, one that you would not deem the right expression for the moment. 

“We are, Y/N. We always have been.”

“Then as your equal I tell you I must go.”

“And I tell you you must stay.”

“I am not your’s to tell to stay. I’m using my free will to leave you.”

His face shows desperation now, but his smile remains, as though he is proud of your defiance.y

You turn to leave, but his hand grabs yours. 

“You may go. I ask that you listen to what I offer before your depart from me.”

Not speaking, you just nod, watching his face closely as he speaks. The truth can always be found there. 

“I offer you my heart, my hand and my possessions should you stay. Y/N I lo-”

“You mock me!”

“You promised to listen.”

You shut your mouth, hearing him out one last time. He takes both your hands in his, looking into your eyes with more love than you thought was possible.

“I have fallen hopelessly in love with you. When I said I would be married, you see, I had hoped it would be to you. Will you be my wife Y/N?”


	13. Chapter 13

“I have fallen hopelessly in love with you. When I said I would be married, you see, I had hoped it would be to you. Will you be my wife Y/N?”

You do not answer him, convinced that he is mocking you. Or maybe you hope he’s mocking you….to marry him… You love him, yes, but marriage? He is many years your senior, and your boss. The social problems aside, he has previously eluded to a dark past, one that he hasn’t shared. Not to mention how he had mislead you with all his talk of Miss Sutton. You pull out of his hands, backing up a few steps. 

“Y/N?”

Daring to look up at his face, much of your anger dissipates. His expression holds such fear, hope, and love. You don’t wish to be the one to make it show heartbreak. He gingerly rubs your arm with his hand. 

“You do not trust me?”

“I….don’t know.”

“I do not lie to you Y/N. I have no love for Miss Sutton, none at all. My heart belongs to you, in your intelligence and beauty and everything that you are.”

He turns away, agitation coloring his features. 

“Your silence is killing me darling! I must have you, please say yes. Marry me, Y/N.”

“Let me see your face.”

“Why?”

“Words mean nothing to me unless I can find the truth in your eyes, in your face.”

He sighs, turning and looking at you once more. 

“Marry me, Y/N.”

Searching his features, you find his his beautiful blue eyes to be full of love. He is no longer smiling, his mouth set in a line. He is decidedly not mocking you. There is color in his cheeks, likely from frustration and the love you saw in his eyes. 

“You torture me, Y/N!”

He runs a hand through his curls, tipping his head back in an impatient gesture. 

“The look you give me is so knowing and fills me with hope that I should not have for fear of a broken heart.”

“Do you mean it? Do you really love me as I love you? You truly wish me to be your wife?”

He puts his hands on your waist, looking you dead in the eye as he speaks.

“I do, I promise I do.”

“Yes. I will marry you.”

He leans in slowly, switching his gaze from your eyes to your lips, giving you time to back away. Doing the exact opposite, you stand on your tiptoes, pressing a kiss to his lips. One of his hands moves to cradle the back of your head, deepening the kiss. 

“I love you.”

“And I you.”

He keeps you close, embracing you, kissing you, giving you all his love. 

Night descends, and you can barely make out your love’s face in the darkness. The wind picks up, howling through the oak’s great branches. 

“The weather turns, we have to go inside.”

He takes your hand as a clap of thunder is heard in the distance. Together, you run across the grass, the heavens opening up and drenching you both. You’re filled with laughter, feeling as though you could never be as happy as you are right now. In the foyer, Mr. Hiddleston loses his wet coat and rids you of your soaked shawl. 

Neither of you notice Mrs. Foster at the end of the hall, silently observing the strange scene. 

“Goodnight” Kiss. “Darling” Kiss. “I love” Kiss. “You.”

You smile, laughing when he’s done, watching him go upstairs. Turning to pick up your wet things, you’re faced with Mrs Foster. Her eyes are wide and her her mouth hangs open in amazement. 

You simply smile at the woman, going up to your chambers. 

Explanations can wait until the morning.

****

During the night, a great bolt of lightning struck the oak tree. Now split in two, it’s quite the sight from your window. 

Mrs Foster stands with you in the yard, keeping a close on Anastasia as she plays. 

“I feel as though I had been dreaming last night Miss L/N. I cannot fully believe that he did in fact ask you to marry him last night, and that….you accepted.”

“I will be his wife in a month.”

“I always knew he held a fondness for you and you for him, but you are so young, my dear.”

“I am not so young as to not make my own decisions.”

“I know, dear, I just….I fear that you are rushing.”

You turn to the woman who has become so much like a mother to you. Resting a hand on her shoulder, you reassure her. 

“I promise you I know what I’m doing. I love him. I trust him.”

Guilt flits across her features when you say ‘trust.’ A small amount of doubt rises within you, but you push it away. 

You have every reason to trust him. 

Don’t you?


	14. Chapter 14

You rush about the house, distracting yourself in any way you possibly can. Anastasia had provided distraction until she went to bed, leaving you to your nerves and unease. 

First you clean. Dusting everything whether it has dust or not. 

Next you read. And book you can find. Each only hold your attention for marginal amounts of time.

Then you pace. Your nervous steps set Mrs. Foster on edge, and she sends you to walk outside. 

You agree to that plan, for it will get you closer to Mr. Hiddleston when he returns from his business in London. 

Before you even really realize, you’ve walked to the edge of the property. Seeing no sign of his horse, you turn back. The night is windy, and in your haste you forgot a shawl. Shivering, you wish that Mr. Hiddleston would come home already. 

Halfway back to the house, you hear the sound of hooves. He sees you, and stops his horse. 

“Darling, what are you doing out? It’s late, and terrible weather for a walk.”

“I was waiting for you.”

“You look as if you’ve seen a ghost! Is everything alright?”

“I….I think I may have.”

“Have what?”

“Seen a ghost.”

All color and humor drains from his face. He recovers quickly, but you don’t miss the momentary distress. 

“I’m sure it was a bad dream. Here, we’ll ride back together.”

You accept his hand, not sure of what will happen when you prove it wasn’t a bad dream.

****

You sit with Mr. Hiddleston in the study, being warmed by the fire. He is listening to your story with an expressionless face. 

“I woke in the middle of the night to a noise. A woman was standing at the foot of my bed. She was very pale, and had tangled and dirty blond hair. She wore a torn dress and her eyes held such darkness...I was terrified. She took the letter you wrote me from London off the table. I think, I thinks she saw your name. It enraged her, she tore it to pieces. She left after that, so silently, I could’ve sworn she went right through the wall.”

He opens his mouth the interrupt, but you continue. 

“I’m not done. Ana has told me stories about her, and I assumed that it was just a dream, but...in the morning, the letter was torn to shreds on the floor.”

His stony expression doesn’t change as you see him thinking. Not saying anything, he stands, making his way to you. He presses a kiss your hair. 

“Thank god you’re okay. You must be tired darling. Go to bed. We are to be married in the morning afterall. I have...some business to attend to.”

Before entering your room you see him speaking to Emma Pond. All you hear is his voice saying. 

“...take care of it…”

You shake away your unease and go to bed.

****

“If anyone has any reason to say that these two should not be married,”

You stand at the altar, holding Mr. Hiddle- _ Tom’s  _ hands, praying that the priest will just get on with it. You cannot wait to marry him any longer. 

“Let them speak now or forever hold-”

“I-I’m sorry. I can’t do this with a clear conscience.”

He lets your hands drop, refusing to look at you. A seed of fear is planted in your stomach.

“Wha-what’s wrong? Have I done-”

“No! No, you….you have been perfect. I…”

He takes a deep breath. 

“I have been a liar. I cannot feel right marrying you and not tell you the truth.”

The seed has sprouted leaves, growing into terror within you. 

“What are you saying?”

“The wedding is off. I have...to show you something.”

He takes you by the wrist, leading you back across the fields and paths to the house. He says nothing to you, he doesn’t look at you. You see a few tears escape his eyes, but you don’t know if they are angry, sad, or scared. His face displays all three. 

Tom doesn’t acknowledge Mrs. Foster, or even his own daughter, as he drags you up to the third floor. Emma Pond is there, startled by your sudden appearance. 

“Ah! S-sir, good morning-”

“You can stop that Emma, I’ve come to tell Y/N.”

“O-oh.”

He looks at you only briefly, squeezing your wrist. It’s as if he expects never to look at or touch you ever again. You’re terrified. 

“Open the the door, Emma.”

“Tom…”

“Open it!”

Emma pulls out a small iron key, fitting it into the wall, and turning. The panel swings inward, revealing a whole wing you never knew existed. 

In a sort of daze, you follow them inside. Emma looks into each doorway, her voice intoned as though talking to a child. 

“Sarah? Our brother, Tom is here.”

Faster than you can blink, she’s standing in front of you. The woman from Ana’s stories, the one in your room. Tom and Emma had walked ahead of you, leaving enough space for Sarah to come in between. You hazard a glance at Tom. He is watching Sarah,  _ his sister,  _ with fear. 

She reaches toward you, gently brushing a hand down the skirt of your dress. 

Without warning, she grabs a handful, tearing away a large portion of the fabric. She screams, the sound tortured and harrowing. She grips your shoulders tightly when you try to back away. 

“Sarah, it’s alright.”

Emma has grabbed the other woman, holding her in an embrace, ignoring the screeches. 

Tom is at your side, clearly unsure of what to do. 

“Did she hurt you?”

He tries to take you hand out of habit. You pull away, running downstairs, trying to distinguish fear from confusion, from anger in the tornado of emotion inside you. 

  
  
  



	15. Chapter 15

You feel as though you cannot breathe. The gown you were to be married in is like a pair of hands, squeezing the life out of you. 

Tears and sobs escaping you, you rip and tear at the ruined dress, desperate to be free from it. Finally able to get a clear breath, you collapse onto the bed in a mess of self pity and disbelief. Soaking your pillow, you fall into a troubled sleep. 

You wake up parched, and with a terrible pounding in your skull. After pulling on a robe, you try to slip out of your room. 

Unfortunately a body blocks the door.  Tom scrambles to his feet at the sight of you. 

“Y/N. You must let me explain.”

“I must?”

“Please. I know I’ve made a huge mistake….but darling please.”

Too tired and dehydrated to argue, you just nod. Noticing how pale and sickly you look, he scoops you up into his arms and carries you to the study. 

Once you’re put down on the sofa, he sits in the chair across from you, clearly wishing he could sit next to you. 

“What is going on here Tom?”

He sighs, running a hand through his disheveled hair. 

“Before I begin, I want you to know that my love for you was never a lie. I love you dearly Y/N, you hold my heart and affections like no one else ever could. Years ago, I was married, and had Anastasia. About nine months after she was born, my sister Sarah was to be married. The night before the wedding, however…”

He pauses, taking a deep breath. 

“She discovered her husband to be was in bed with…..my wife.”

You press your hand to your mouth, not having expected that.

“The doctors say that her mind broke along with her heart. She stopped recognizing anyone except Emma and myself. We tried to keep her comfortable and gave her free roam over the house. That was possibly the thing I regret most. One night she was in some sort of fit. Sarah found my wife’s room and she….she killed her.”

“Tom-”

“So I moved us to Winterfell, and kept her for the most part in that wing. Emma takes care of her and I’ve managed to keep her away from Ana. I’m so sorry Y/N. I should have told you...but I was scared that she would do the same thing to you as she did all those years ago.

I know that this doesn’t excuse the fact that I lied to you. I know that. I just need you to know that I love you.”

You don’t say a thing. 

His eyes are projecting nothing but truth. You know that he’s no longer hiding anything from you. And, goddamn do you love this man sitting before you. 

But can you truly do this? Can you marry him, knowing this? You would have to hide from his sister. She may kill you. Can you ask him to possibly never see his own flesh and blood again? Is it right to do that to the one you hold most dear just to secure your own happiness?

“Y/N, please….say something.”

“I….can’t do this.”

You see how fast and far his face falls at your words. 

“Tom, I love you. I have loved for longer than you know.”

Shakily, you get up and sit next to him. Tears pooling in your eyes, you take his hand.

“It is for that reason that I must leave-”

“No. Y/N you cannot-”

“I can do whatever I like. I can marry you and make you miserable. I must leave Tom. Your sister is more impor-”

“We can move the Springfield House. Sarah won’t be a problem.”

“I will not do that to you.”

He is crying, the tears wetting his shirt and dripping onto your hand. 

“Please...I can protect you from her….somehow.”

“Tom, you are grasping at straws.”

Yet how desperately you want a grip on those straws. Words are becoming steadily more difficult as your tears come like a tidal wave. He pulls you close, whispering sweet nothings, running a hand through your loosened hair. 

The selfish part of you wants to stay there, to give in, to ruin him. 

You pull away, pressing a tearful kiss to his lips. He doesn’t watch you leave to you room, only sitting there with his head in his hands, crying.

****

You leave before the sun rises the next morning. On your way out, you kiss a sleeping Anastasia on the head, repressing more tears at having to leave her as well. Mrs. Foster embraces you, standing behind your decision. All of your willpower and more keeps you from turning the handle and going into his room. If you had, it would have all been over. You wouldn’t have done the right thing. 

As the carriage rattles over the ground you take a final look at Winterfell. 

A tall ginger haired man stands at the window, bellowing your name, trying one last time to bring you back. 

You brush away a few stray tears, keeping your resolve. 


	16. Chapter 16

Having been in such a hurry to leave Winterfell, you brought very little money with you. It was just enough for a night at a local inn, and to put out an advertisement for work. The skies open as you trudge to the inn, rain soaking you to the core. 

A very pretty woman clearing the tables inside spots the lost and heartbroken expression on your face immediately. 

“Miss? Are you alright?”

“I would like a room for the night, please.”

She studies you a moment, and you feel a bit like she can see straight through to your soul.

“Of course. Chris! Can you take-”

“Y/N. Y/N L/N.”

“Miss L/N to an open room?”

A tall, well built man with longer blond hair joins you in the entry room. Weakly, you follow him up the creaky stairs to a small room. It’s colorful and warmly lit, making you feel at home right away.

“You must be hungry, Miss L/N. There’s food to be had downstairs if you’d like it.”

“Thank you Mr….”

“Hemsworth.”

“You and your wife are very kind.”

He nods, leaving you to stow your bags and get dry clothing. 

****

“What brings you here, Miss L/N?”

“I had to leave my job rather suddenly a few days ago. I came here in the hopes of finding a new one.”

“What do you do?”

The woman, whom you now know is named Elsa sits and talks with you as you eat. 

“I am a governess. Though I will accept any job I feel I can do.”

Elsa shares a look with Chris, who is tending the fire. Just then, a little girl who looks a fair bit like Ana runs in holding a straw doll. 

“Mother! Look what old Miss Austen gave me today!”

“It’s beautiful! What are you to name it?”

“Charlotte.”

You smile at the girl, spirits brightening at her cheery disposition. 

“A pretty name for a pretty doll.”

“Who are you?”

“Miss Y/N L/N, pleased to make your acquaintance.”

You extend a hand which she gladly shakes, excited by being treated so grown up.

“I’m India.”

“India, can you come help me?”

“Yes father!”

She off and running again, back hidden in the kitchen with her father. Elsa turns to you, a knowing twinkle in her eye. 

“I think fate has been on my side today when you came here today Miss L/N.”

“How so?”

“I’d like to offer you a job.”

Surprise keeps you from saying a word. 

“You teach India, and help out a bit around the inn, and you can stay here free of charge.”

“You say fate has been on your side, but I think it’s entirely on mine. I’d love to.”

****

You stay at the inn with your new family for a year. The little town accepts you and soon you’ve made friends, and have a new life. India has a special place in your heart, Chris and Elsa now like siblings to you. 

That’s why they notice the change in your behavior. 

You’d always had a sort of sadness about you that they didn’t ask about. You never flirted back with the young men that tried to court you. 

But a little over a year after you came to them you became depressed. You hardly ate, found no joy in the things you once did with a smile. 

Respecting boundaries aside, they’re worried. 

“Y/N?”

“Yes?”

“Are you alright? Elsa and I have noticed that you’re a bit….off.”

“If you need to talk, we’re here.”

You sigh, putting down the dish you’d been washing. 

“I….need to know.”

“Know what?”

“Before I came here, I was going to be married to the love of my life. I discovered that he has…..complicated family matters. It was best for him that I left. Recently I’ve been overcome with this need to know if he’s alright. If...maybe I can go back.”

They share a look, remembering the early days of their love. 

“We’ll call a carriage.”

“What? You don’t-”’

“I can’t help but try to fix heartbreak when I see it. You must promise to write us, though.”

You hug them both tightly, love swelling up inside you. 

“Thank you, for everything.”

****

You kneel there, surrounded by ash, blackened wood, and the ruins of your home. 

Winterfell is gone. 

It has burned to the ground. 

You weep. 

What has happened? Are Anastasia and Mr. Hiddleston even alive? You shouldn’t have left. Oh god, you’ve made the biggest mistake of your life. 

You cry, tears dripping down onto the ash covered ground. 

“Y/N?”

You’re on your feet faster than you’ve ever been before. A familiar old woman stand before you. 

“Mrs. Foster! Oh thank god!”

You embrace her tightly, laughing breathlessly. 

“You came back?”

“I….made a terrible mistake in leaving. You must tell me what happened! Is everyone alright?”

She leads you away from the rubble, and you sit on a patch of green grass. 

“As the months continued after you left, Mr. Hiddleston became like a different person. He didn’t bother to shave, rarely slept, and only ate when I could force him to. I sent Anastasia to school, seeing her Papa in such a state was not good for her.”

Guilt overwhelms you. Perhaps the selfish thing was in fact, to leave….

“One night, about three months ago, Sarah escaped her floor again in the dead of night. In some sort of rage, she set fire to the room you used to occupy. It spread faster than we ever could have expected. Mr. Hiddleston would not rest until everyone was out of the building. We tried to stop him, but he went back for Sarah. She had made her way to the roof.”

You cover your mouth with your hand in horror. 

“He was too late. She jumped just as he got there. On his way out, a falling wall fell.”

“Tell me he is not dead. I could not bear it.”

“He is alive, but blinded.”

You sit there in stunned and sad silence. 

“This is all my fault. I left. I shouldn’t-”

“Had you stayed, she would’ve set you on fire. What’s done is done, and one should not dwell on it.”

“Where has he gone?”

“Springfield house. He brought only Emma and sent for Ana to be taught at home.”

You thank her again, and rush off. 

The only thing you can think of is how much you must see him.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is it, the end!!! I feel like it's shit. Hopefully you disagree. :D

He is there, sitting in the garden. From afar, he looks like a man enjoying a beautiful autumn day. To you, you see a heartbroken man who cannot see the beauty of the sky, the clouds, or his daughter growing older. You approach slowly, nerves suddenly taking over your insides. 

“Go away Emma, I don’t wish to speak.”

“‘But love is blind, and lovers cannot see.’”

He shoots to his feet, hope and profound sadness in his expression. 

“Y/N? Can it be you? Surely this is just some cruel trick.”

“No trick, sir. I am sorry.”

“Sorry? What for? If you are real than I am the happiest man.”

You laugh shortly, walking to where he reaches out for you. His arms wrap around you in a familiar and comforting embrace. You feel a dampness in your hair. He is crying.

“I thought you were dead.”

“And I you. What a mess you left behind at Winterfell.”

He laughs, clumsily bringing a hand to your face, tracing your features. 

“You are still Y/N. I have not awoken from some cruel dream.”

“Tom….I shouldn’t have left. I said that it was good for you if I did, but that was the true selfish choice. I’m so sorry.”

“Will you stay now?”

“If you want me to. I will stay and care for you and Ana again.”

“As a governess?”

“Yes. I can be a governess again.”

There is unhappiness in his features at this suggestion. 

“I can continue to teach Ana all of the wonderful things she was learning. Although, I can accomplish that job as your wife.”

He smiles, finding your hand. 

“Is that what you want?”

“More than anything. I have fallen hopelessly in love with you.”

You kiss him, his hands cradling your face gently. You smile up at him, and him down at you.

“Then we shall be married. We will be happy once again.” 

And you were. 


End file.
